


A Different Song and Dance

by EmeraldOasis



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Elia Martell Lives, Elia Martell was in love with Lyanna Stark, Elia is Dornish and totally would have loved her a Northern woman, F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones Spoilers, Geez Rhaegar get a little creative with names man, I Will Go Down With This Ship, If I put more than what's up there you will get spoilers, Jon Snow is Not Called Aegon, M/M, Minor Rhaegar Bashing, Multi, Non-Canonical Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period Typical Attitudes, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaella Targaryen Lives, he deserves it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-04-30 02:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14486688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldOasis/pseuds/EmeraldOasis
Summary: Princess Elia Martell survives the Sacking of King's Landing, but the once-future King Aegon perishes as a result of the Old Lion's plotting. With Rhaenys and Elia's favored Kingsguard in tow, they flee to Dorne and set forth in motion events that might just lead to their fragile world existing just a moment longer.





	1. Elia I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein the tale unfolds.

_Elia I_

_Year 283 After Aegon's Conquest_

  
Ser Jaime had been her savior. With her Uncle Lewyn dead on the field with her husband, Elia was sure it was the end for her as she heard the door to her chambers rattle. Deep grunts and groans felt like deafening echoes as Rhaenys clutched her cat Balerion to her chest and tried not to cry out. Aegon had been fussing at her chest as Elia prayed to whomever would listen. The stone wall pressing into her back offered no comfort; the wall itself was damp and mossy, leeching into her dress.

 

 _Send me a warrior, one that can save my children from their fate_ , she prayed. _Gods Old and New, I beg you-_

 

The noises suddenly stopped and loud sticky sounds resulted in a rapidly expanding pool of blood leaking under the door. Rhaenys was all but in the throes of a frantic state while Balerion yowled from how hard she was squeezing him. The door swung open to reveal a bloodied but unharmed Jamie Lannister. "Elia, are you all right?" He blurted out, all sense of decorum forgotten. She nodded sharply. Jaime's shoulders sagged in equal parts relief and exhaustion. The youngest member of the Kingsguard collected himself and steeled his gaze. "My father intends to have your heads, Princess Elia. He means to betroth my sister to the Usurper if he wins, or to clear the way for her to wed Prince Rhaegar if Robert Baratheon loses."

 

Elia was not stupid; Tywin Lannister would have sold his own mother for coin had she not already perished after birthing his brother Gerion. The Old Lion would have done anything to solidified his power and chokehold over the Seven Kingdoms. Shaking her head, Elia moved on from her musings about a man who wanted her and her children dead for merely existing. "We must leave, Ser Jaime. Aerys will call for our heads as well as your father, for some imagined reason or another. We should make haste to Dorne and rendevous with the Queen Mother provided she can still leave Dragonstone." Jaime nodded, but Elia could not help but notice something shift in the Kingsguard's eyes when she spoke King Aerys' name. "Ser Jaime? Did something happen to the King-"

 

 

"I killed him."

 

 

Elia fought the urge to hit the floor from the shock of it all, but she had to think of the now-gurgling babe - no, King - in her arms.

 

"Dead? You? ...But why?"

 

Jaime began to pace the room, restless. He would glance between his charges one at a time, for a good moment or two, before he could finally summon the courage to explain himself. "He had his pyromancers ready to engulf the city with wildfyre, my Princess. He believed his dragonsblood would protect him," Jaime spat, "But any lords or smallfolk within the city would make a fine bloody roast for him." Elia sat delicately on her bed as she absentmindedly toyed with his few whisps of Tagaryen-white hair. He was virtually identical to his father with his brilliant violet eyes and most of his face but for his chin and the shape of his eyes. That was pure Dornish. Rhaenys favored her mother and grandmother far more in features, and Elia in colouring, yet her hair had taken on an odd quality - Elia's Dornish brown locks on top, with parts of the underside of her hair closer to to her Tagaryen roots. Elia suspected one day such an oddity would set her eldest apart as a rare beauty -

 

_Would her children even make it that long? Would they survive the night?_

 

She would die for her children, she thought, as she observed Ser Jaime granting her a moment of brief privacy. He knelt next to Rhaenys and tried to coax some measure of emotion out of the Princess. Jaime succeeded when Balerion - the damnable fiend - bit the Young Lion right in the fleshy part of his off-hand. Rhaenys let out a small giggle as Jaime allowed his charge to play nurse to him, just to see her avoid any fate involving a shattered mind. Elia feared such for her daughter, at least Aegon was small enough still he might not recall this night.

 

_If they lived by the end of it._

 

Elia stood with wobbly legs. "We shall sail to Dragonstone and collect Queen Mother Rhaella. From there, we may sail to Dorne or flee to Essos." Ser Jaime nodded before he swiftly aided the Princesses in packing. Aerys had burned almost all of their belongings before he began their latest confinement after he decided their things were spy tools for the maesters working for the Usurper. After Rhaegar had left with Lyanna Stark, Aerys no longer held any remote semblence of sanity.

 

Why make off with Lyanna though, and leave his first wife and children behind? Elia loved Lyanna as much as he, perhaps even more, for the Northern woman-child had a certain faith in the world even after her father and brother were brutally slaughtered. They had even held a right and proper Old Valyrian ceremony where Elia and Lya swore to become wives to the same Prince. But to rip Lyanna away from the children who now asked when was, "Mother Lya," coming back? Rhaegar, what are you plotting with your parchments and prophecies?

 

Ser Jaime held their travelling case in one hand with his sword in the other as he led them down, down, down to the servant's passage. Through the kitchens with the shouting cooks and maids fleeing and into the stables. Dim light was all that illuminated the smokey corridor. Elia could hear distant horse whinnies - they would make it - !

 

A small force of men wearing a motley assortment of Lannister colors met them in the courtyard. Within an instant, Ser Jaime was forced into combat and away from the Princesses and the Prince, shouting all the while. " **KEEP HIM BREATHIN' BOYS!** " One of the men shouted, adorned with a black manticore atop a red field. Amory Lorch, Elia surmised, as she and her children were shoved into the dirt. A significantly larger man approached, easily twice the height and muscle of the men surrounding him. "Lord Lion paid good coin to see you dead, Dornish whore." The large man grinned lasciviously. "He didn' say as to how, only that there be bloody killin' going on." Lorch stepped up and tore Aegon from Elia's arms with a piercing cry. The villain snarled his nose as he handed the babe to the near-giant. "Remember my name, whore, when I send you and your lot to the Seven Hells. Gregor Clegane." She sucked in a breath as he tossed her son into the air in the middle of the crowd of men. Elia did not even sense him behind her, lifting her dress bottom as Aegon was stomped and bludgeoned to death for sport.

 

"I'll be takin' my time with you, whore."

 

Elia felt something...warm, trickling down her neck. Somewhere else she heard Rhaenys screech as men began to yell and shout. Clegane's body thudded next to her numb legs with his head almost neatly severed from his neck. A man covered in furs - a Northman? - stood next to her. "A-Are you alright, Princess Elia?" He panted, taking in her status as he did so. She continued to stare at the bloody pulp that was her son. Her baby. Her King.

 

Rhaenys launched herself into her mother's arms as she sobbed. Watching her brother die as men were on the verge of assaulting her as they tried her mother? Elia could only attempt to soothingly rub circles on her eldest's back. The Northman bowed at the waist to the women. Ser Jaime approached the trio warily. "You are with the Usurper." It was not a question. The Northman nodded. "I...I could not stand idily by and allow a defenseless woman and her children die. I fear..." He glanced at the pulp-that-was-Aegon. "I fear I failed all the same."

 

A squat man began to gently place Aegon's remains in a red cloak and wrapped him as though he still yet lived from how tender he was with the bundle. He placed a few herbs from his nearby horse's saddlebag in the red bundle and then placed the body in another, larger bag. As he approached, Elia noticed he was not merely squat - he was a crannogman. But...they only worked directly with their liege -

 

"You are Eddard Stark." She murmured. Eddard nodded. "You can call me Ned, Princess, if it pleases you." The crannogman nodded. "This is my friend Howland Reed, the other men with me are Lord Willam Dustin, Ser Mark Ryswell, Ethan Glover, Martyn Cassel, and Theo Wull. We will aid you any way we can, Princess." Ned kneeled and was followed in rapid order by the afore-mentioned men. Ser Jaime exchanged a glance with his Princess. How eager would Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, be if he knew just how close Elia was with his 'missing' sister Lyanna?

 

"Lord Stark, good sers - rise, please." Elia watched as they did as she commanded, not unknowing of Lord Dustin's focus on Rhaenys. She would cut his balls off herself if his eyes held nothing more than affection for children in the usual way and not in a sinister sense. "Lord Dustin, do you not find Rhaenys acceptable?" The man jolted before smiling sadly. "Nay, Princess, your daughter reminds me dearly of my lady wife Barbary at home in Barrowtown. I hope to live long enough to have children m'self." Elia softened. Northmen were by and large as trustworthy as their word, which was usually taken at face value. The Game of Thrones did not truly extend to the frozen North. "Forgive me, Lord Dustin, all of you. I..." Elia croaked. Aegon was dead. Rhaenys continued to cling to her dress and Balerion had curled up at his owner's feet to hiss at their protectors. The feline had bolted as soon as it had seen the mass of men waiting for them. Elia mused that mayhaps had they paid attention to the cat, they might have Aegon yet still.

 

The party of Northmen led the Princesses and Ser Jaime to the front of the stables where horses awaited them. Ser Jaime and Elia climbed onto the Young Lion's horse that had somehow been found and secured. Elia allowed Lord Stark to hoist Rhaenys in front of him on his steed with her cat firmly within her grasp. The Dornish Princess prayed that would be enough to secure the beast - gods only knew what it would do to break Rhaenys' heart to lose her precious companion.

 

_If we live through this, I must ensure that Rhaenys finally has friends and allies no matter where we go. No matter what._

 

_This must never come to pass again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave comments/reviews! I know this sucks, but please tell me in what ways and how to fix it!
> 
> Thank you so much!


	2. Ned I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elia wants answers and Ned gets a big whopper of one for himself.

_Ned I_

  
Something big was happening in the Stormlands, but as to what, Ned could not ascertain. Rhaenys felt so small as she slumbered beneath his chest. Her blasted cat had finally shut up after Ethan had tossed the animal a piece of salted fish he was saving for later. Balerion glared at him from his perch atop the smallest part of his saddle. Ned growled at the black-colored fuzzball and got a hiss in return. Theo chuckled. The clanman of the Mountains stated, "You do not seem fond of the cat, Stark. Is it because you are wolves?" Martyn snorted and Willam laughed as Ned glared at his traitorous men.

 

Princess Elia's voice was haunting as she softly asked Ned of his loyalties. "Why us, Lord Stark? Why risk your heads for your enemy's blood?" The smiles faded from the Northmen's faces as they awaited their liege's word. Ned licked his lips. "I...I could not stand to see greed and madness take Robert. To kill the man you swore revenge for kidnapping my sister is one thing, killing a mad-king is to be assumed, but to demand the deaths of children? Of an innocent woman?" He shook his head as he checked in on Rhaenys again. "I cannot back even my sworn brother in that regard."

 

Ser Jaime coughed just a hair bit too loudly. Willam Dustin turned his gaze to Kingsguard. "Have something to add, Ser?" Jaime looked away before explaining his actions prior to his rescue of Elia and her children. He truly slayed Mad-King Aerys? Howland did not seem to disbelieve it and Ned knew the crannogman could sense or see things that Ned and the others could not. 'Greenseer or something close to it,' Theo Wull had called him.

 

"No true loss to the realm, not like wee babe Aegon or even the ruddy Prince." Mark Ryswell bluntly stated. Willam scolded his goodbrother, but Ned did not wholly disagree with that statement. His father Rickard and brother Brandon certainly would not disagree. Ned only prayed Lyanna was safe and whole when he found her, lest Robert truly have his head mounted on a portcullis. He looked at the Princess out of the corner of his eye and saw her nibbling away at her lip in a most un-ladylike fashion. The other men continued to squabble over the sequence of events and over if it meant Jaime would have to properly leave the Kingsguard given the circumstances of a maddened king wanting to torch the city and all within it.

 

"Princess Elia? What troubles you so?" They were passing further into Dorne and closer to Kingsgrave after two sennights of hard riding. Elia asked they pause for a short while to stretch their legs and reconnoiter the site. Once the horses were fed and watering in a near stream, Elia began to speak as she watched little Rhaenys speak quietly to Howland.

 

"I am - was - wedded to Rhaegar alongside Lyanna." Ned heard a clatter of utensils behind him followed by loud swearing. Ethan apologized for cursing in front of ladies. Rhaenys clasped her hands over her mouth to try and stifle her giggles. Sers Jaime and Mark sighed and continued to wash their armors and furs, respectively.

 

"How?" Ned croaked. Polygamy was illegal, unless -

 

"In the ways of Old Valyria, Lord Stark. Legal and true for a Tagaryen to accomplish." Elia's eyes seemed to be somewhere completely else as she continued, "I love Lyanna. Truly, I do. My children are hers, and hers will be mine." The Dornish Princess peered into Ned's soul as she locked eyes with him. "Make no mistake, I wish I could have beaten some sense into Rhaegar, but what's done is done. We are making for the Tower of Joy for a reason, Lord Stark, though I am not entirely certain as to why Lyanna is there." Ned was puzzled - why would Rhaegar not tell Elia why he was taking Lya elsewhere? What was so important that she was left in the dark for her loves' sakes?

 

Something was not right here.

 

Still. They drove their party onward. This mysterious Tower held answers and Ned got the impression that he was not the only one who desired them more than anything else.

 

He thought of Lyanna, of Brandon, of his father Rickard, and of Benjen still-alive in Winterfell. He thought of his new lady wife Catelyn Tully, who last he had heard of was with child and doing alright but for her worsening dizzy spells. He thought of dancing violet eyes that caught the stars above Harrenhal, and of the only promise he had ever broken since he was a boy. He thought of Jon Arryn and Robert and how furious the latter would be while his foster father would urge caution... and also for the royal family to be put to sword.

 

Ned shook his head as he continued to look ahead at the road before them while Rhaenys slumbered once more during the night. For a child, for the sake of a child, or for his blood - Eddard Stark would do a great many things.

 

The question was: _exactly how great of things?_


	3. Jaime I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime is forced to acknowledge his crime as the party sees the death - and dawning - of a new age.

_Jaime I_

 

To a man born and raised in the Westerlands next to the cooling breeze of seaside air, Dorne was a pile of dusty, hot pigshit to Jaime. Red dust kicked up with every step of man and horse alike, and Jaime's once-white Kingsguard cloak was now closer to a magenta. Somewhere, he felt like Tyrion was laughing right about now at his misfortune. _The Pinkish Lion_ , his younger brother would call him. _The Whorey Lion_ , Jaime would need to fire back. A play on a roar, if he would.

 

 _Damn_. Jaime paused. _How absolutely bored WAS he if he had to resort to plotting light revenge against his brother for an insult that would likely never be uttered?_

 

A cry from the front of their motley crew sounded out, catching the attention of all but Lord Dustin who lazily demanded, "What now? Another intriguing rock formation-" "Silence!" The Mountainman Theo hushed the lord of Barrowton. Willam grumbled as their train slowed to a crawl. Bloody arse, Jaime thought.

 

They were just shy of the crest of a hill when Jaime heard the faint wailing travel down the path. Lord Stark's back shot rod-straight and he spurred his horse quickly over the hill, followed by Elia on her own sand steed she had acquired somewhere near Kingsgrave. Their reactions were telling - they had found Lady Lyanna, most likely. The rest of the party followed their liege and Princess, the vista below the hill granting them the sight of a lonely, if not hideous, plain-looking tower roughly secluded from the main road. Close enough for a quick flight, but far enough away that a deep investigation by say, a certain Usurper, would be seen as far too intensive or a waste of time.

 

Even in death, Rhaegar did not cease to surprise Jaime, though the Young Lion felt more surprised that he had made a sensible decision for once.

 

Once.

 

The screams were identified as one lone Lyanna Stark, as explained by Martyn Cassel. "I heard her enough in the training yard, beating her brothers to a bloody pulp like Nymeria herself, I did." The man mumbled under his breath as another cry of - agony? - sounded off. Lord Stark and Princess Elia continued to rush ahead of their group, only coming to a halt just outside of the doorway and next to three figures standing next to the tower.

 

Jaime knew those figures.

 

"Princess Elia! You still live, praise the gods Old and New!" Ser Arthur Dayne cried tearfully. Swiping at his face, Arthur beamed at his dear childhood friend, though his stoic demeanor quickly engaged as he settled his eyes upon Lord Stark. "You come for Lady Lyanna then?" "Eager to drag her back to your Usurper dog?" Lord Gerold Hightower rumbled, his fingers twitching over his sword pommel. Theo Wull growled at him but for Lord Dustin to swing his arm out to hold the Mountainman back. "Men, contain yourselves. We seek to only take Lady Lyanna home and nothing more." Howland Reed softly spoke. If the tension were but a bubble then it had been quite deflated, seeming to dissipate in the air leaving naught but awkward glances and coughs.

 

Lord Stark was the first to speak again. "I...I just want to make sure Lya's alright. Why does she scream so-" As if on cue, the Northwoman let loose a soul-curdling screech. Elia paled and ignored all sense of care for the very armed men surrounding her for her to rush forward and up the tower stairs. Arthur made a half-hearted turn to stop her before he waved his arm at Lord Stark to follow her. Howland Reed, Jaime could have sworn, was standing still next to Theo, but as Jaime meant to ask a question all he met was empty air. Theo shrugged at him as though this was a normal thing for Lord Reed to accomplish.

 

Well. Jaime took it back. This is awkward. The other remaining Kingsguard focused intently on their youngest member. "Why are you not with your King, Ser Jaime?" Ser Oswell Whent grumbled. Jaime shuffled. "I...I killed King Aerys." The shocked silence that followed, he would later reflect, was but a prelude to the events of that day.

 

Like a ballista shot the three Kingsguard circled around Jaime.

 

"HE WAS YOUR KING-"

  
"YOU SWORE AN OATH BOY-"

  
"IF RHAEGAR WERE HERE-"

 

"WELL HE BLOODY ISN'T, IS HE?!" Jaime roared. "HE GOT HIS BLOODY CHEST CAVED IN BY ROBERT FUCKING BARATHEON'S WAR HAMMER, DIDN'T HE?!" The Young Lion was panting heavily now. His eyes could not focus properly on the men he called brothers as much as he did Tyrion. He could not find his balance as he stumbled within the makeshift battle ring.

 

No...This was no battle. _This was a trial._

 

"You swore to protect your king. You swore it, boy." Gerold spat. Arthur refused to continue looking at him and focused a bit too intently on the Red Mountains surrounding them. Ser Gerold continued. "You broke your oath. You-" Jaime could not stand it any longer. How dare he, when Rhaella's cries still haunted his dreams at night? How dare he, when they had to watch Brandon Stark strangle himself to stop Lord Rickard from roasting like a pig? How dare he, when Aerys wanted his own grandchildren dead just because sweet Princess Elia's blood ran through their veins?

 

"We stood by and let him **rape** his sister-queen. We dared to try and dissuade but not **stop** him from harming Princess Elia and her children. We tried to push Prince Rhaegar to usurping his father, but the Prince was too busy with his prophecies and **fucking** a woman-child." Jaime spat. Only with the last word of 'woman-child' did Ser Oswell react with a wince. Jaime was confused - did something happen to Lyanna Stark? Oh he knew he should show technically the other wife of the Prince some respect but -

 

"Erm. About that, ah...Woman-child bit." He tried, but for said girl's agonizing scream cutting through the air. The sudden silence was merciful if uneasy. Ser Arthur looked pale. "What troubles ye, Ser Dayne?" Ethan Glover interjected. The Kingsguard all jumped slightly as though they had completely forgotten the Northern party present. Jaime felt a small tug at his tunic bottom. "I-Is Mama Lyanna okay, Ser Jaime?" Ser Arthur opened his mouth to respond instead but for a distinctly male wail to ring out, followed by a different woman's cries.

 

_Elia!_

 

The tower's steps were a blur of sand and tan rough-hewn stone with Jaime flying up-up-up to the door and ripped it open. What he saw...

 

Jaime would wish no woman this fate. Rhaenys - still managing to cling to Jaime's person, let out a small whimper before burying her face in his leg. Elia and Lord Stark were weeping over a dying Lyanna as blood somehow endlessly seeped from her lower half. They had to cut her open, Jaime realized numbly. Ser Arthur appeared behind him and scooped a sobbing Rhaenys into his arms. It was a moment before he noticed a softly gurgling bundle in Elia's arms. The Lion felt boiling-hot anger course through his veins - he might feel little affection for the Wolf-woman, but for Rhaegar to use her to get his fucking prophecy-child?

 

"Promise...me...Elia...Ned...Promise me...You...W-will...protect...Jon...Aemon..." Elia nodded rapidly as she swallowed back more tears and snot. Lord Stark, Jaime saw, was not quite looking at his sister when he whispered, "I promise, Lya." Lyanna sighed with a hitch in her breath and turned her head to the Princess. "E-Elia...Know that I-I-" "I love you Lyanna. I always, always have, please don't die my love." The Dornishwoman begged. Lyanna smiled sadly and shook her head slowly as a sudden gush of blood erupted. Lord Stark finally looked his sister in the eyes as she breathed in shock. A sweaty sheen had covered her body and all she truly could do left was breathe and look around. "Ned...I don't want to die." The Northman planted his forehead atop her own and whispered just barely out of Jaime's hearing, "I will keep them all safe, Lya. G-Go see Brandon and our father. I l-l-love you, sweet s-sister." He was struggling not to break down as his sister's face was before him. Elia shifted the babe in her arms and gently placed a dried bundle of blue-colored flowers in her lover's hands. Lyanna shifted her head and gazed contently at the ceiling of the tower room -

 

 

And then she was no more.

 

 

The journey down the tower was somber and empty of feeling. Jaime had swapped with Arthur for Rhaenys-carrying duties, and he noticed the Kingsguard looked pale and terrified yet still. Gerold punched the side of the tower base in frustration while Oswell had taken to a bush to relieve himself, doing a horrible job of hiding his tear-stricken face from the others.

 

Lord Stark had to be pulled from his sister's body by Howland Reed. Elia at least had the strangely quiet babe to focus on - Lord Stark had nothing. The Northmen that had remained on the ground offered their condolences to their liege who accepted with a wave of his hand. Ethan broke down and clung to Martyn who joined him, the grown men cradling each other like babes. The other Northmen had seen a fair bit of Lyanna, though Ethan was Brandon Stark's squire and knew her quite well, as did Martyn who was a brother to Winterfell's master-at-arms. Lord Stark would have at least two Northmen to help him grieve deeply, Jaime thought. Elia had nobody but Arthur who was her childhood friend, Rhaenys who was but a child herself and likely traumatized, and Jaime.

 

The Lord Commander coughed slightly to grab their attention. "And...what of the babe, Princess Elia? Be it a girl or a boy?" Elia jerkily nodded. "A-A boy. We have a King yet still." Lord Stark slowly looked at the Princess and nodded with her assessment. That lad was his only family left, outside of his younger brother, Jaime realized. That and his new lady wife and their child forthcoming. "What be the boy's name, then?" Theo asked.

 

Elia softly answered, "Jon. Jon Aemon Tagaryen. Or Aemon Jon Tagaryen, I don't know which, but he's whichever he likes as he grows." She toyed idly with a small patch of chocolaty-brown hair on his head and earned herself a soft coo. Rhaenys, sweet Rhaenys, tip-toed over to her mother and promptly laid a sloppy kiss on his royal head. "Not Aegon." The three-year-old softly murmured. Elia looked pained. "No. Not...Not Aegon. His name is Aemon, after your great-uncle, do you recall your father writing to him?"

 

Jaime turned away from the scene. Better that Elia have the little Princess bond with the new King now despite all of her trauma being fresh. The Lord Commander locked eyes with him and mouthed the words, _We will speak later._

 

Later, all people present would kneel before their new King. Jaime remember the scene for a painting in a few moonturns after the commotion died down: Elia sitting on a boulder with Rhaenys standing next to her mother, peering down at the pensive babe Jon, men in furs and plated or white armor in the dust below.

 

Yes, that was to be a wonderful painting. _It even shut up Tyrion's japes too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bless y'all for leaving such awesome comments! I am so sorry this update took forever, I graduated and can totally now teach you guys/your kids!
> 
> BEWARE. 
> 
> : D


	4. Interlude: Catelyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Catelyn Tully reconsiders her stance on her father's plotting, for honor and duty mean nothing when you're dead.

Something was...wrong.

 

They could not leave Riverrun yet, not when Catelyn had thankfully concieved the night of her wedding to Lord Eddard Stark.

 

How funny, she thought, as her abdomen cramped far too much. I still call him by his title. She could only hope that maybe they would become close with time.

 

Edmure called out, "Cat?"

 

She swayed as blood rapidly pooled in the floor. Oh, such a mess for the servants to clean up, she really must find a way to thank them. Perhaps a lemon cake for the holiday soon?

 

She prayed that her child would be a boy. That would be such a pleasant suprise for him to return from the war to, would it not-

 

Catelyn screamed in agony when Edmure tried to help move her into a cleaner bed after she bled too much on her own. Her father was screaming at the maester - "STOP HER FROM DYING OR I WILL CUT OFF YOUR RUDDY HEAD YOU DAFT-"

 

The Mother had blessed her when she made that sharp noise increase in her ears and made her unable to hear her father's yells. Edmure she would have liked to hear as he was crying above her face.

 

Uncle Brynden stormed into the room and blanched at her. Why was everyone so worried and scared?

 

"...y Lady." Oh! She could hear again! Oh, after the birth she would have to go pray at the sept-

 

"You are dying my lady." The maester whispered while her father raged in the back of the room. Uncle had to grab him by the shoulder and shake him, but the maester took her head by her chin. "We-We may have to cut you open to get your babies out. Will you agree to this, Lady Stark?"

 

Wait.

 

Babies?

 

She caught herself nodding. Edmure - sweet Edmure - wept furiously. The maester was cutting into her belly and ordered her brother to speak to her as a distraction.

 

"M-Mother died like this didn't she, M-M-Mother-" He stammered. Catelyn knew he cared for her deeply, but could he have picked another topic? Like Lysa, "Let us speak of our lovely Lysa, dear brother."

 

His face contorted into a grimace. Ah. Lysa had left precisely to avoid a possible sight of this. All they truly knew beyond that was that when Lysa left, she was also with child.

 

Catelyn tried to look down at the maester's bloody work and vomited all over poor Edmure when she saw her innards piled on top of her lower half and on the bed. She almost choked on the vile remnants when she cried upon seeing her precious son. "R-Robb, after Lord S-S-Stark's dear friend, R-Robert."

 

Uncle Brynden stood next to her now, and her father was no longer in the room. Why did father leave her...? Did he leave Mother to die like this...?

 

The second child, a delicate-looking thing, came soon after. "A-a girl, my lady!" Catelyn breathed and earned herself a shot of blood arcing all over the room. Dammit.

 

"S-Sansa. Sweet...little...San...sa..."

 

More blood, more wails from men and babes alike. Catelyn...

 

Catelyn might hate her father now. She did her duty, brought her family honor by marrying Lord Stark, and bore him two apparently healthy children - at the cost of her own health. Her own life. Did Mother feel the same way, when Lord Hoster Tully abandoned Minisa to his grief? How did Lysa feel when their father made her drink that tea unknowing it would kill her babe with Petyr? Was that why her sister saw her with scorn as she left, glaring at her belly? But Lysa was with child, Lord Arryn's now, the one she was meant to have, not Littlefinger's. Her father was right, but wrong, but-

 

Father was never wrong. Father was irreparably wrong.

 

Family, Duty, Honor echoed in her darkness around her, like a chant from a choir. Family, Duty, Honor - FamilyDutyHonor - Familydutyhonorfamilydutyhonorfamilydutyhonorfamduhofamduho-

 

She just wanted to go back to sleep.

 

 

 

 

A sigh.

No more.

Twin wolves cried out in the night.

And the school of fish grew ever-smaller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a love-hate relationship with Catelyn. On one hand, I think she's the shiznit. On the other hand, I think's she's kinda poop.
> 
> And by kinda I mean a lot.
> 
> I want to make this absolutely clear: this is totally not a case of Dying for Our Ship. We know Minisa Tully had troubles about on par with what we come to expect of Medieval women in terms of childbirth. We know that while Catelyn was lucky and had all of her children live past infancy (but only just, yikes), would she have the same issues as her mother if her children had come in manners besides the 'standard' single birth? We know Joanna Lannister had twins Jaime and Cersei, but somehow Tyrion's was the one that got her in the end. We know Elia's constitution is poor and always has been, though her issues could have been further exacerbated by the high-stress environment of King's Landing/Mad-King Aerys. In short: Catelyn might have survived as stressful of a birth as one involving twins, and she might not have. Lyanna sure didn't live through Jon's, but on the other hand, Lyanna was only fifteen when she was kidnapped/had sex, and sixteen when she died. Catelyn was eighteen or nineteen when Lyanna died and is that age when Catelyn dies in this story. 
> 
> While I have ideas for other stories involving Cat, I am sorry to say that in this one she does not make it. Blame Hoster more than anyone else - and maybe keep an eye out on Lysa...


	5. Elia II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein Elia is royally pissed off, curious, then pissed off again.

Blasted fucking Gerold Hightower. _Oh my lady, we must rest for a day or two, we must not stress the King's constitution_ \- Like she had no idea about stressing one's ruddy constitution. He thought her a pretty face or worse, nothing more than a failure of a would-be queen given her inability to squeeze out another girl.

 

 

_Thank you for that, Rhaegar. Because of that, your best swordarm thinks me a fool and my lady love is beyond the pale now. Arse._

 

 

Elia found herself in agreement with Arthur, or perhaps he was agreeing with her - either way, they needed to swing around and make headway for the Water Gardens or Sunspear. The Queen Mother awaited them soon, provided she had fled Dragonstone in time. Doran would protect them or failing that, Oberyn. Elia had the utmost faith in her brothers...Well. One of them, at least. Doran might very well turn both Rhaella and herself over to the Usurper and just demand Rhaenys live under his care just to wash his hands clean for his next political ambition. Oberyn though...Oberyn would steal her daughter from her if he believed she would be safer hidden as a bastard of his. Oberyn would die for Elia, she knew, but if she ordered him to do something or for him to use his discretion, he would jump at the chance.

 

Once, Arthur was like that. Once, she had dreams of joining hands with Ashara as sisters. Once, she believed that Ashara would have wedded Oberyn and the two would have torn Dorne to bits in a maelstrom of dust and clay from their antics. Wedding pairs of siblings was not uncommon, and House Dayne was a valued servant to the Martells. If only her mother had not schemed to attain far higher than she needed, if only Princess Eryna had stopped to think of her children's feelings in the matter...

 

 

But.

 

 _This was no time to reminisce on the past_ , Elia thought as she looked down at the quiet baby boy laying next to his sister. _Focus on the now Elia. You must win this stupid game, for their sake. You must._

 

 

Ser Jaime was calling for her. "Princess Elia! It seems Ser Arthur convinced Lord Stark that we should make way for Starfall, my lady." Starfall? _What could possibly warrant that detour beyond resupplying?_ Elia spotted Arthur having a poorly-contained quarrel on the edge of the campsite with the Warden of the North. Ned looked paler than he had before they found Lyanna dying so what in the name of the Seven had Arthur said to him?

 

 _Oh Gods above, Lyanna..._ , Elia thought. She was on the verge of closing herself off again, focusing only on the care of her children. Jaime had to keep speaking to her, rubbing circles on her back while Ser Oswell and Ethan went on about perceptions and honor and other sorts of hogwash to try and make him stop. A snap of the fingers brought her back to the dusty reality they lived in. "Elia? Stay here, my Princess. Your children are here, your family yet lives." Jaime muttered, intentionally looking away from her face and at his smallest charges. The little things mattered the most to Elia, she felt. Small things to remind yourself why you continue on, like Jaime's-

 

"FINE! WE WILL MAKE WAY FOR STARFALL NOW, ARTHUR! I WILL NOT STAND TO HAVE YOUR SISTER SHAMED ANY LONGER, JUST LEAVE ME TO MY GRIEF FOR THE MOMENT!" Ned was screaming. His face was a most unseemly red color and Elia could not help but compare it to Jaime's stained cloak.

 

 

Funny, how the other members of the Kingsguard still had pristine-white cloaks.

 

 

The sudden declaration silenced the camp but for wee little Jon's whimpers from the noise. Rhaenys glared at her newest uncle. "You woke Jon! Bad wolf!" Mark stifled a laugh. Howland Reed whispered something under his breath that only Ned caught but whatever it was, the Lord of Winterfell nodded his head sharply. "I-Ignore my outburst. We make haste to Starfall." The urgency in his voice was not apparent until he gave a bark of a " **NOW!** " and so they did. Elia chided the Kingsguard when all four Sers just stood about taking up space and left the Northmen to pack up their small camp. "Princess, most of this is the Northmen's property, and besides," Oswell noted, "You are not exactly rushing to help yourself-"

 

As if on cue, Jon let loose an unholy stench and Rhaenys an equally unholy screech about an insect - Gods Old and New! Elia smiled thinly. "I have to attend to my own duties, good Sers." Of the four, only Ser Jaime did not shiver with that last word. Elia would need to remind them that she had managed to survive (with assistance) King's Landing. Not only that, but her brother was quite proficient with poisons, nothing was exactly barring Elia from dabbling in the craft herself...

 

They set out not two hours later, and made it to the castle of Starfall by riding hard for a moonturn. The weather was horrid and the sun beat down on the party, but Ned and Arthur were determined to make all haste to the Dayne household. Elia had not seen much of Ashara since just after the Tourney at Harrenhal where Rhaegar's plan had gone wrong despite Elia's attempts to smooth things over just before that blasted Aerys-

 

 

_No use thinking about it now, girl. Live in the moment and not in the past._

 

 

Arthur shouted their presence to the guards at the castle gates. Elia watched Ned shuffle nervously in place while the guards almost tripped over themselves in their hustle and bustle. What in the name of the Seven was happening? Why did those attached to House Dayne seem so on edge? The great hall was no different, although Elia did have the pleasure of meeting sweet Allyria Dayne and setting her off with Rhaenys and Jon. The two girls seemed to already have the wetnurse Wylla in a tizzy with their antics, so Elia left the children to their own devices. At least now Jon could have a mother's milk instead of subsiding on goat or cow's milk.

 

To the collective surprise of their party, Lord Almont had secreted himself away from the guests and left his eldest son Ardyn to handle the affairs of the lands. "Truly, I do not know why Father has acted in such a dark manner, but he keeps to himself in the Palestone Tower now after Mother passed when she bore Allyria." The blonde-haired scion shook his head as he observed the Princess and his youngest sister running in circles in the courtyard. He sipped quietly at his goblet of wine before he continued. "I'll not trade anything for sweet Ally, but Mother was Father's heart to his more colder aspects. Ally is close to Rhaenys' age now, far past the point of mourning or lashing out in anger for him..." Arthur and Elia nodded in agreement, having seen Lord Dayne's crueler moments due to their closeness as children. Elia distantly recalled him shouting at Ashara most of the time for acting in a manner he deemed unseemly for a lady, though she personally felt he was biased towards the women in his life. _Cretin_.

 

The solar was well-furnished as Ardyn spoke to Elia, Ned, and Arthur. The other Kingsguard had elected to remain posted along the courtyard's edge on the ground floor. Elia spied Jaime in particular smiling brightly at something Rhaenys had said that left the girls in a giggling fit. Arthur continued the discussion and got to the point of the matter - "How is Ashara, brother? Does she fair well? The babe?" Ardyn coughed and sputtered. He looked at his brother with deep confusion written on his face as he stammered out, "W-What babe? Ash never came back when she went riding after Harrenhal!" Ned's back was ramrod-straight as Arthur became alarmed. "I have it on good authority that Ashara did arrive here, and she is carrying Lord Stark's-" He waved in Ned's general direction, "Child, conceived at the tourney. He wants to take responsibility however he can, but brother I swear to you Ashara is here in Starfall." Arthur strode out of the room with clearly a destination in mind. Those left in the solar sped after him.

 

All in the courtyard saw them dash across the way to the base of the Palestone Tower. Arthur began to bang an armored fist on the door. "FATHER! LORD DAYNE! OPEN THIS DOOR OR I CLEAVE IT IN TWO!" Ardyn now looked panicked - it wouldn't do to have a likely-now wanted Kingsguard causing a scene here. Elia concealed a grin. Perhaps a scene should be caused-

 

The door slammed open to reveal a horrible-looking old man, Lord Almont Dayne. Elia would have mistaken him for a significantly more pale Old Walder Frey if not for his spectacles and almost feverishly-bright indigo eyes. "Speak your business then leave, boy!" The old man hissed at Arthur as though he were a child and not the bloody Sword of the Morning! Elia would have throttled him for such a disrespect, but both Arthur and Ned shoved past him into the Tower. Elia left Ardyn to assist his now-fallen lord father and followed her childhood friend and her brother-in-law. "Do not go up there, I forbid it-!" Lord Almont shouted from the cobblestone floor. _Well, **now** we have to see what is up there._

 

A door barred from the outside awaited them at the top floor of the Tower. Elia was starting to become a hater of the blasted bits of construction as her calves cramped from the exertion. Arthur nodded once to Ned, unlocking the door.

 

Ashara was indeed there, chained by the ankles to a rotting wooden bed. The smell in the room indicated she had been left to relieve herself in the same bed she laid in, Elia realized with a grimace. Her dearest friend was thin, far too thin for an expecting woman. The bulge on her mid-section looked too small for as much time had passed since the tourney and presumably the conception of her child. Ned was breathing hard as he looked at the woman who managed to warm up the lonely wolf's heart - surely he was also re-living Lya's death from birthing Jon. She was clearly breathing, which Elia grimly thought was better than the alternative. Arthur stormed out of the room and shortly after Elia could hear shouts from down the stairs.

 

 

She really hoped that Arthur could make Ardyn see some sense in chucking his father off the bloody tower.

 

 

"Ash...? Can...Can you hear me, love?" Ned spoke with a tenderness only reserved for his beloved sister, for children, and for his dear friends which he now considered Elia a part of somewhat. Elia moved to the unoccupied side of the bed with Ned crouched next to the other. Ash, blessedly, whimpered something about water. Ned's breath hitched and he was whispering sweet things to her when Ardyn burst into the room followed by Ser Gerold. "By the Seven..." The heir whispered. Obviously he had not been informed of these conditions until Arthur shouted at him. Ser Gerold spat in disgust and called for the key to Ashara's bindings.

 

When they all descended the Palestone Tower - Ashara so small and thin in Ned's arms - silence permeated the courtyard. One serving girl dropped a jar of wine and began to sob hysterically. A maester was quickly summoned and while he said she would live if given enough nourishment, he was far less confident about the babe. Ned shook his head furiously once Ashara was resettled into her rooms. "Just help her heal, Maester, and you will do us all a kindness. The Gods will aid in the rest of it."

 

 

_We shall hope, dear Ned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry guys, real life sucks and I have zero clue what to do now that I am out of school. Yikes.


	6. Ned II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned and Ashara have a bad few months. Oberyn makes a house call. Ned takes a dirtnap and never needs to meet the Ambien Walrus. Bad mojo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I file this under Earn Your Happy Ending?
> 
> Or: Why writing things at 3 AM makes for depressing topics and I should probably get some sleep to get the happy part of my brain back.
> 
>  
> 
> Here we go...

_Ned II_

 

Alysanne Stark arrived in a bloody mess, bereft of breath and never with a cry in her mouth. The cord had likely killed the babe days or weeks prior to their freeing of Ash, the maester had said under his breath to Ned. Ash wasn't even lucid by the time the babe's body needed to exit her mother. Ned was left to his grief once more until Ashara awoke and began to ask for her child - Elia was the only one who could calm his love's crying fits.

 

 

His love. _No Ned, your love might be just as lost to you in mind as your wedded lady wife is in body._

 

 

The raven had come a sennight after Alysanne's death. Lady Catelyn Stark, dead of bearing twin wolf cubs in her father's home. Hoster Tully made it quite clear he wanted nothing to do with the infants that took away his most beloved daughter in the letter he had sent to Sunspear, then redirected to Starfall. 'Take these wretched things out of my castle, or I shall see how they fair against the tide!" A second letter had been attached by Hoster's brother Brynden the Blackfish that detailed the manner of his wife's death, as well as naming his children: Robb and Sansa.

 

Robb and Sansa and Alysanne, not to mention the Tagaryen children. All victims in this cruel world and all Ned felt responsible for their circumstances. How could he not be responsible? Had he married Ashara right there at Harrenhal or shortly after, Hoster might have sped up the wedding for Catelyn and Brandon or else married her off to another lord. Someone better than I, Ned thought, instead of a man who was off at war when his lady wife died to give him an heir and a daughter. Not so dissimilar to his love who nearly died doing the same.

 

The Northman was left feeling adrift and distant from reality. Walking the halls of Starfall's castle now gave Ned a fluid-like quality to his movement much like swimming, food did not have a true taste to it, and time would pass oddly in starts and flashes. Day would be over in a heartbeat and nights lasted moonturns even though he knew it had scarcely been two moonturns since they had properly arrived and found Ash in the Palestone Tower. Servants would vanish into thin air and Ned could swear he heard childish giggles 'round every corner.

 

But the only children in the castle were Rhaenys, Allyria, and Jon. The three had all been kept as quiet as possible and confined to either the nursery or outside the castle under guard. Most of the servants were past child-bearing age and their own offspring had largely gone off to serve at other Dornish houses. Allyria was the last child born in Starfall castle at all in the past ten years. No other child drew breath in these halls. Ned was surely going mad-

 

"Lord Stark." A voice asked behind him. Ned had clearly been wandering the halls again - when had he left his room? - and turned to see the Red Viper of Dorne himself. Prince Oberyn Martell gave him a somber look. "I...I grew up with Ash. Us four - Ashara and Arthur, Elia and myself. Ardyn was far closer to Doran for their love of books and figures..." He glanced down at the floor and swallowed thickly. He made sure to look Ned in the eyes as he spoke lowly, "I am deeply sorry about the babe, Stark. Ash does not deserve much sadness to dim her light...You do not deserve that either. This war has taken much from you." He knew the salty Dornishman meant well but in that instant, everything Ned had so delicately shoved in the darkest recesses of his mind fell into the openness of the hallway, as raw as they were when he had first put them aside.

 

"My lady wife is dead. My lady love lost our babe. My two children by my wife would be dead if not for their great-uncle and uncle shielding them. My father died no better than a roast **pig** , my brother hanged himself trying to save him. My _sister_ -" Ned choked, "- my sister is dead and was in fact **not** raped but **married** to your sister and her husband. My nephew is to be the next on the Iron Throne. This war takes and it takes and it **_steals_ ** from me and mine, Martell." He gasped and shuddered. His arms were trembling and his legs no more than jelly. Blasted world got odd again as he was dimly aware of his feet going forwards slowly but his shoulders and head tilting back to the floor. Oberyn had his mouth open in a shout but Ned was horribly tired, frankly.

 

 

So much for a first meeting.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

He was in the godswood at home. At Winterfell. Outside the castle, Ned could spy people bustling about and hear merriment in the air. Lights danced along the walls while the snow fell slowly and softly on the ground beneath him. While the weirwood tree had frightened him as a child, for now Ned could only feel affection for it as he beamed at his surroundings.

 

  
Home.

 

  
He perked his head up as he heard a faint voice call his name. As he turned around, he saw the distant figure was a woman at the least, but he could not see her features. Odd, as the torches were so bright on the walls, too bright-  
She was before him again. Her dress with her house colors and little trout so daintily sewn into the hemline, dancing wolves along the waist and collar. His mouth went dry.

 

 

Catelyn.

 

 

"My lord husband..." She smiled sadly, "I fear we had naught but a night together. You are a good man though. You will keep our children safe, yes?" Her blue eyes open, begging him. His voice had been lost to him. Blessedly, she smiled as though he had said yes to her simple request. "I trust you, my lord. Keep the future ones safe too. The starry night needs you more than I, for she draws breath yet still."

 

"C-Cat-" He managed to spit out. Her face was growing paler and paler as her smile faltered. Only when he heard an unfortunately familiar plop did he look down. Blood was rapidly pooling underneath their feet from Catelyn's lower half. Sobbing in barely controlled agony, the Riverwoman cried, "It hurts Ned, it hurts so much, why does it hurt so-" He clung to her as he could not in life when she bore him their children, and pulled her down to the ground with her upper body in his lap. "Promise you will cherish them Eddard Stark, promise-" Ned was hysterical as Catelyn abruptly shifted her hair to a dark brown and her eyes grey and her face was longer-

 

 

 _Promise me Ned_ , the specter of his sister said with unmoving lips and unseeing eyes. The urge to toss Lyanna's rotting corpse - _but her body was preserved with Howland's crannogman magic he had **promised**_ \- was overwhelming.

 

 

Brown became black and Ned joined Ashara's screams. Begging for a second chance that would not come for this child. Pleading with an absent Almont Dayne for mercy and for nourishment. Hope that would be crushed into tiny little pieces when too-small Alysanne slipped out of her mother right there in the godswood in a rush of too-much blood and gore.

 

The snow, Ned stupidly thought, the babe will freeze in the snow!

 

Ashara had fallen into nonsensical babbling and wailing as Ned drew his cloak over the tiny babe. She paid no mind. Certainly not when Ned gasped at the babe rapidly growing under the cloak into a girl of no more than ten. Dark brown hair and violet eyes, jet-black hair and grey eyes - Ned could not clearly tell from an odd haze, but she was certainly his lost child. She looked painfully similar to his deceased mother Lyarra.

 

From nowhere, what he knew in his heart-of-hearts to be Robb and Sansa stepped next to their dead little sister. _Papa_ , the girl murmured silently. Robb kissed her cheek as Sansa giggled - those sounds he could hear. _Papa...Papa we love you!_ Alysanne chirruped mutely. Sansa's little face - _gods, she will be a copy of Catelyn when she is a woman grown_ \- winced at Ashara's state on the snowy ground. "She will be better. It will just..." Robb stepped in for his twin, "Take many years, father. Aly's passing hurts her." Alysanne stepped forward and embraced the father she would never know but in this dreaming nightmare. _Be good for Mama, Papa. I will never forgive you otherwise!_

 

Ashara had stopped her mourning and watched the four with wide violet eyes. Alysanne grabbed her mother's hand and tugged her to the small group. _She is as strong as the Greatjon!_ Ned thought with a bit of saddened pride. His other children joined their sister in holding Ned and Ash close to them. For one blissful moment, Ned felt that he was wholly and truly happy, like nothing would tear them asunder-

 

Then little Alysanne became nothing more than a dead babe again as she collapsed into a bloody puddle.

 

 

 

He awoke shouting her name.

 

 

 

  
Ashara woke screaming his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interlude coming up that might make this a hair bit better...


	7. Interlude: Oberyn I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinslaying is the worst crime any man can commit. That much is a fact.
> 
>  
> 
> Oberyn Martell, by virtue of never getting to marry Ashara or Elia to marry Arthur, is most definitely not kin to Almont Dayne.

Ardyn would be a good lord for House Dayne. When Oberyn believed in someone's character firmly, only incessant nagging from Doran would ever hope to change his mind.

 

Well. That or Elia could butter up her brothers and they would march to whatever tune she pleased. However, this particular venture was on behalf of not Elia or Doran, but for the Dayne siblings and Eddard Stark.

 

 

Elia did not shirk the details. Chained in the Palestone Tower, nothing but pig slop for food if she was fed at all, and to make things worse she was carrying Stark's get from Harrenhal-

 

Was. Was carrying, he had found out upon arriving in Starfall. He had pulled the wetnurse aside and asked excitedly to see the newest addition to Houses Dayne and Stark. "M'lord, I apologize but..." Wylla nibbled on her lower lip, "The babe did not make it."

Wylla gave the condensed tale of a long and bloody birth only for the babe to be dead since likely just before Ash had been rescued from her father's cruelty. "She wept when she heard the little King wailing for your sister."

 

 

He knew Ashara well. He just did not know how to best handle something like this. His own daughters were given to him by their mothers after they were born - well, except Obara, that was not quite giving so much as him retrieving her - and only with Sarella had he truly known the duties of raising an infant. Somehow he had been blessed until his littlest with avoiding soiled smallclothes and screeching for a breast at too-damn-early-in-the-morning. At least he could sympathize with wanting a good teat in the dark of the night-

 

 

A heavy wooden door met Oberyn. His destination was in the room beyond. No, his usual talents lay in the realm of weapons of all sorts. Yes, he knew he was one of the best warriors with a spear in the Seven Kingdoms. But that was not why he had dashed over to Starfall as quick as his best sand steed could move. He withdrew a collection of vials from a satchel on his belt in a motley assortment of colors both vibrant and dull.

 

 

I do this for you, Ashara.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Almont Dayne struggled to take his last gasp of breath as he glared at Oberyn with his one good eye left. "S-She...Des-er-ved...EVERY...thing...For the...good...of our House," He choked.

 

The Red Viper clucked his tongue. "You are about to die, Almont. Surely you do not wish to go to the hereafter with lighter shoulders?" He chuckled as Almont heaved nothing but bile and blood onto the filthy dungeon floor. Oh, Oberyn usually hated drawing things out with individuals he was instructed to retrieve information from, but for Almont Dayne who had always been cruel...Oberyn would abstain from his normal customs.

 

He knew why Almont despised his daughter especially so. Two generations prior to Almont's, House Dayne had been under duress. In an attempt to gain funds, the Lord of Starfall at the time chose to both wed a daughter of his a son of their branch house at High Hermitage and a son to a Stormlander bride. The daughter was treated horribly by her husband's house while back in Starfall the Stormlander woman aimed to ignite an anti-Dornish fervor among the Dornish lords. Unfortunately, by the end of it all only a son of Starfall and a daughter of High Hermitage were left, and so Almont was the result. His upbringing was wrought with fear and suspicion as his father still held his Stormlander mother's rhetoric as truth, and his mother did little to stop such thinking. High Hermitage had become a threat by the end of that time as well, as Oberyn could see for himself that little Gerold Dayne held nothing but hate and misery for the main house of Daynes in his little body of nine.

 

For Almont himself, he too had been forced to wed a true Dornish bride of House Wells, the good Lady Iselia. Ashara would become very quiet as a girl when Doran had asked why her mother walked so tenderly and had limped around Starfall one time they had stayed there, but Arthur had been quite vocal about his father's cruelties to their mother only because of her skin. Oberyn himself had heard the horrible things that wretch would tell his kind-hearted wife, about how _her nature would damn their children, Ashara would become a slut and bear only bastards, the boys would be makers of bastards themselves, how grateful she needed to be for at least Arthur and Ashara got their coloring from him and not like her filth rubbed off on Ardyn_ -

 

 

Oberyn hated him. With every bit of his proud Dornish blood beating in his heart and pounding in his veins, he took his sweet time in killing Almont. He took pleasure in how Almont had recoiled from Oberyn's hands applying pressure or poison here or there. "Ahh, you must truly despise these absolutely **filthy** hands from touching you, Almont. No matter," Oberyn had leaned in dangerously close to the dying man, "The only dirty, disgusting thing in this room is **_you_**."

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The morning was a beautiful day. Birds chirped in the trees of the gardens around the castle. Two older serving women giggled at the strong Prince of House Martell training in the yard, their laundry long forgotten on the breeze. He flashed a roguish grin at them and laughed when the darker-headed of the two swooned. Ardyn emerged from the castle itself and proceeded to gently shoo the women back to their work. Oberyn continued to whack and stab at the poor training dummy, waiting for his brother's bannerman to speak.

 

After a few silent moments, it seemed he finally found his lost words. "You...Killed my father last night, did you not?" Oberyn paused and looked at the now-eldest Dayne in the eye. He could not find any anger, only pain and a need to get some sleep. "Yes. I killed your cunt of a father, Ardyn. Angry at me?"

 

The new Lord Dayne glanced out at the sea from an open balcony along the training yard. The waves held no more answers than either man, but all the same, Ardyn shook his head.

 

"I don't believe I am."

 

"Why, if I might ask?"

 

"Because, old friend, I feel just..."

 

"Just...what?"

 

"A feeling of relief. It's over. He's over. I can make the choices now that get Ned and Ash married, or fix up the port. He was old and bitter and hated us all for one reason or another." Ardyn sighed. "He was my father, but Ashara is my sister. Our mother did not get any sort of justice until you, I suppose." He did not face his Prince as he murmured mostly to himself, "My children will know Iselia Dayne and her love for her children, and not an iota of Almont Dayne the Cruel. This I so swear on House Dayne, on Starfall, on my lifesblood."

 

 

Oberyn took that as his cue to softly slip back in the castle. Perhaps Elia needed bothering?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He wasn't a tough nut to crack at all, was he?


	8. Jaime II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime dicks things up as usual and Elia's very not pleased.

Jaime decided that this was bloody-fucking weird.

 

Say what you would about Lannisters shitting gold, but at least gold didn't haunt grieving parents or inhabit wolves or whatever horseshit happened up North. The most he knew was Prince Oberyn had ran into a barely-lucid Stark and said roughly two sentences to the man before he ranted about all his dead family before he blacked out. Jaime had heard of drunkards with a bit more grace than that, one of the more notable ones being _Robert fucking Baratheon_. He figured the bastard's friend would have a higher tolerance.

 

Then Lady Ashara had woken up screaming and Ned Stark woke up screaming and then the _children_ screamed which gave Jaime an unholy headache that no ale could drown out, blast it all. Oberyn had been quite liberal with his personal Dornish Red and spirits supply for the sod's chambers had been hastily prepared in the only free space left on the other side of the nursery. Jaime and the other Kingsguard members proceeded to get completely and unashamedly sloshed. Finding an unused storeroom to make merry in was easy enough. The Kingsguard lost all inhibitions after it had been cleared up that the screaming was from some wintery magic thing. Gerold sat him down and spoke honestly with the youngest white cloak.

 

 

"Ser Jaime," he hiccuped, "Yous killed yer king. Terrible, terrible business, that." Sers Arthur and Oswell nodded a bit too fast for Jaime's eyes to follow. Oswell was quite close to falling off of his fluffy chair he had commandeered from...somewhere. Arthur was impossibly perched off a unused wooden desk next to his sworn brother. Their Lord Commander himself was accentuating every word with increasingly elaborate hand gestures. "Can't be a Kingly Guard if ya kill yer king, can ye? What say you, men?" Arthur burped loudly.

 

The violet-eyed man spoke, "Jaime did the right thing, m'thinks, but rules is rules. No killin' though, he's a good lad. Let him rule the Rock or chase skirts or some'thin." Well. Not losing his head was an alright outcome, though losing his Kingsguard posting hurt his very soul. Or it would when he was hungover and needed to remember this conversation to be more miserable. Oswell continued his ever-dangerous teetering off the chair. Mayhaps the bastard would land solidly on his smarmy rump-

 

"Look ye," Oswell was well and truly besotted, "I-I believe that once a vow-breakerin' fool, always a vowey-breaking fucker!" He jabbed a thumb towards the wall of the storeroom. "Them purple-eyed fucks will tell ye the same, golden cat! You killed that fucker the King! Sure, he beat and raped and burned and- and..." The man stumbled out of his plush seat and fell not on his arse, but on his poncy face. His armor clattered off the stone floor as he cursed in quite the storm. Did Jaime detect a few choice words from Volantis?

 

Arthur and Gerold howled with laughter at their comrade's situation as Jaime giggled uncontrollably. Oswell spat, with his cheek pressed firmly into the hard floor, "Oi! See if'fins you stay upright, what with the room spinning about! The hell do the Dornish put in their liquor..." The protests only further inspired the Kingsguard not posted on the ground to laugh harder. Thoughts were becoming harder and harder to truly keep a grip on as the men continued to drink into the night once Ser Oswell was re-positioned sitting next to his fluffy chair.

 

After Arthur had managed to slop a rather large bottle of Dornish Red all over his pretty white cloak, much to Jaime's glee at no longer being the only Kingsguard without a pure-white cloak, Oswell had his revenge on his sloshed mates. He had roared that if they truly meant to maintain Ser Jaime as a Kingsguard or even to let the lad go back to the Rock, then they all must maintain their brotherly bonds and share deep and dark secrets. Well, "naughty" had been the phrase used instead by the drunk, but Jaime figured the meaning out well enough. Of course, that was when everything blew up in his pretty face, he later realized.

 

Gerold had started off by shouting, "I shagged my arse through all of Oldtown and back to Harrenhal just before I took my vows! I was uh, blessed in that way." He looked down and inspected a loose stone before continuing, "Should'a gone to Lys and found proper men there, though Oldtown's fulla men to bugger. Just not pretty ones..." Arthur did not seem as flabbergasted as Jaime and Oswell were at the casual mention of Gerold's preference in men since the Dayne stood up and wobbled around the room singing a bawdy song about maids and aurochs. Pleased that he had distracted the latter two, he revealed that prior to joining the Kingsguard he had fought hard with the now-deceased Almont to allow Arthur to join an acting troupe to become a bard. "That was why Prince Rhaegar desired me the most over you smelly, uncultured pigs!" He crowed to the jeers of his brothers.

 

Oswell had a nasty competitive streak and attempted to jump to his feet before settling into his comfy chair once more. "I," He flourished with his pointer finger in the air, "Am still a proper virgin, unlike you lot. I think women are frail and whiny and men are brutes and yes Arthur, quite smelly too!" His declaration earned him a round of booing which he responded with a rude gesture using his hand. Jaime could hold back no more, and with the force of a thousand Ironborn ships assaulting a beach for how stupid he was to even say it, he spoke those damning words:

 

 

 

 

 

"I fucked my sister right before I joined the Kingsguard."

 

 

 

 

 

Hindsight was a blessing and a curse. Was it the wine or did he feel a deep-seated need to spill his darkest secret? He knew the faith of the Seven damned such relations and the North saw it as no better with their savage Old Gods and bloody trees, but if Targaryen king after Targaryen king wed their sisters and nieces and aunts then what was so wrong about a Lannister doing such?

 

As he nursed his wicked hangover in the Starfall cells, he would recall his brothers-in-arms shouting and haphazardly carting him out of that blasted storeroom. He would recall passing Elia and Oberyn in the halls on the way there, and when she was told why her favored protector was being hauled straight to the cells how the Princess's face swiftly transformed from shock to fear to anger. He could not see the Prince's face as clearly which bothered Jaime something terrible. Blessedly, the Kingsguard did not interact with any servants or the new Lord Dayne himself, but they did not exactly make it a small secret when despite speaking one could hear Jaime's white-ish armor scraping against stone.

 

When the morn came and only Elia visited him, Jaime felt a deep-seated emotion in his belly he hadn't felt before. Tywin's quiet rage at Jaime's Kingsguard appointment was full of disappointment for his desired heir and even that did not touch what Elia held in her eyes as she looked at him.

 

 

 

"Sober enough to explain, Ser?" Ouch. No 'Jaime' or even a good 'Ser Jaime' from the Princess. She was not just disappointed or enraged. This was a fury as cold as her goodbrother's icy hellhole.

 

"We were born together, Princess. Thick as thieves. Swapped clothes as children, even, so she could swing a sword and I could sew shit. We were awful at the other's studies, but it was still fun." Jaime rambled. "When Tyrion was born, all efforts by our mother to separate us ended - our father was not to know. We saw a small advantage to her dying in letting us remain close, and as we grew, we..."

 

"Experimented?" Elia supplied.

 

 

Jaime nodded. "Th-The plan was," He licked his lips nervously. Should he even bring this part of the tale up? Based off of Elia's face, yes, yes he should.

 

"The original plan was for Father to offer Cersei's hand to the King for Prince Rhaegar. She would have gotten her Targaryen prince that Father had told her she would have all her life, and if he turned out to be an absolute bore, she could at least bear his dragons between fucking my brains out as a member of the Kingsguard." Gold tresses shifted as he shrugged. "I was the backup. And then Aerys snubbed Father, you married Rhaegar, Cersei got pissed and likely wants to marry Robert fucking Baratheon now so she can still be queen, and the rest is history."

 

Elia gave him a stony look. Her hands betrayed her inner turmoil as they trembled while she processed what he had said. Closing her eyes, she said, "So my marriage to Rhaegar did more than make me a target to Aerys. You sister would see me dead - likely wished for my death after each time I grew ill -" Jaime nodded in confirmation, "Just for Rhaegar's cock?" Jaime sputtered. He almost wished his dearly departed mother's plan with the previous Princess of Dorne had gone through-

 

 

"Erm. Yes. For ah...T-The Prince's sword."

  
"This is absolutely **ridiculous**. **Stupidity** of the highest order-"

  
"But it is what my father and twin wanted nonetheless."

 

 

Elia half-screamed into her fist in frustration. Restlessly, she paced around the cell. A thousand thoughts flitted across her features every time she paced towards him. The Dornishwoman's sight did not truly include him for the good while she stomped all over the floor. Jaime even sneezed from the dust she kicked up and still no reaction.

 

 

_How rude!_

 

 

"Princess Elia," He drawled. Elia skidded to a halt. "I know how we stop this mess. No bloodshed, justice done and all that bollocks."

  
"Then speak of it." She hissed. Her face was dark. _Ah. She settled on outright murder then._

 

"Well. Alright, so - the Usurper? Robert Baratheon, his head may have to roll, yes, otherwise either exile him or make his younger brother Stannis the heir of Storm's End."

  
"Why would I or the Queen Mother even consider that?"

 

 

Jaime rolled his eyes. "Because the Stormlands are awfully close to King's Landing, wouldn't you say? Seven hells, Dragonstone's just right there, Stranger's sake! Appease them, half-ass it, one of the two."

 

"There is but one minor issue, _Ser_." She spat, "My son is still dead. Jon - Aemon - whatever the fuck he'll wind up calling himself or will be slapped down in a text, his life is just as endangered as Aegon's was. You cannot deny what you saw. Your father's men were told to kill myself and my children. Clegane almost _raped_ me, Jaime." Elia's voice softened to a whisper now. "What would you do, if you found your precious Cersei ravaged and killed by, say, Mace Tyrell's men?"

 

He was suddenly eye-level with Elia now, having sprang to his feet in a hurry. His breathing was ragged as he hoarsely whispered, "I would gut the fat bastard myself."

 

 

"Then you know what I must do."

 

 

Jaime sank to the floor. He knew what his father had done, ordered men to do the dirty work for him. By harming a member of the royal household...

 

She paused before she left him to his thoughts. "I would not be so cruel as to ask you to take his head off yourself, Jaime." Her footsteps were soft and echoed in his head until Ser Oswell retrieved him a few days later for the journey to Sunspear. What was left unspoken affected him the most though.

 

 

 

 

  
 _I am so sorry that this must be done_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry guys! Real life reared its' ugly head and job hunting sucks.


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